


Puddles

by LittleSixx



Series: Bean OTP Kiss Challenge [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gay Blaise Zabini, Gay Dean Thomas, Growing Old Together, Kissing in the Rain, Love, M/M, Older Characters, POV Dean Thomas, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26205928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSixx/pseuds/LittleSixx
Summary: Blaise, Dean, and a kiss in the rain.
Relationships: Dean Thomas/Blaise Zabini
Series: Bean OTP Kiss Challenge [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896496
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Puddles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TravelsWithCharley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TravelsWithCharley/gifts).



> Third day of the 20 Day OTP Kiss Challenge for Bean. Today's prompt was "kissing in the rain." Gifted to another one of my Bean readers. I hope it makes y'all smile.
> 
> Note: fic does include a reference to mild sexual themes.

Twenty-five years together.

Twenty-five years of marriage, laughter, early mornings and late nights together. Some things had changed from the beginning. Dean had more grey in his beard than not. Blaise didn’t travel as much as he used to. They didn’t have sex quite as often and it didn’t last quite as long. A few years earlier they’d split their time between London and Modena, but the longer Dean stayed in Italy the more he was at peace. They’d bought a small, secluded house just outside Florence. and finally settled down.

But most things were the same. Blaise still organized the refrigerator and slept past eight whenever he could. No matter how many times Blaise smiled at him, Dean’s heart would always skip a beat. His eyes crinkled at the corners now, but it was the same smile as the day Dean fell in love with him. 

Dean was on the top step leaning against the front door, sheltered from the rain by the portico. A wide stone walkway led out to the edge of the property and continued slightly down the hill. The path was lined with bushes that secluded them from their neighbors without making them seem too distant. The bushes had been Blaise’s idea; Dean always wanted to be close to people. 

Compromise. 

When his mother spoke about her marriage, she always said it was about compromise. But her compromises were about time or principle. For a long time, even the first bit of his own marriage, Dean considered ‘compromise’ a dirty word. But he wanted a house close to their neighbors and Blaise didn’t, so they compromised on massive bushes and several large trees at the back. 

Compromise.

Blaise wanted a yellow house and Dean wanted something with a bit more colour. So they painted the house yellow and added blue shutters. There were conventional ovens inside and a wood-burning oven outside near the patio. Their home was a perfect combination for the two of them.

Dean retired four years earlier. He was fifty-two, Blaise was nearing fifty-three, and it was finally time for them to slow down. At least, Dean thought so, but getting Blaise to stop cooking professionally was like trying to see a Boggart in its true form: next to impossible. He ached for more time with his husband, but Blaise enjoyed his work so much it would hurt even more to pull him away from it. 

So every day at six, Dean walked outside and waited for Blaise beneath the portico. It was raining that particular Tuesday, so Dean listened to the pitter-patter against the stone steps. The clouds out along the horizon were dark and angry, the rain would get heavier as the storm got closer. Water had begun to pool between the cracks of stone in the walkway and at the base of the stairs. 

_Pitter-patter._

_Pitter-patter._

_Pitter-patter._

_CRACK!_

Among the things that hadn’t changed over the years was Blaise’s inability to Apparate to the correct point. Instead of ending up on the steps, Blaise landed in the middle of the walkway. Dean chuckled as Blaise was immediately drenched by the downpour. He let out a loud,

“ _CAZZO!_ ”

Dean knew enough Italian to understand that one. Blaise’s robe was soaked, sticking to him and swimming in a puddle at his feet. His braids were damp, but they needed to be redone anyway. Dean looked forward to that. Blaise’s face was contorted into a frustrated frown as he kicked at the stone with the toe of one loafer.

Without hesitation, Dean gingerly stepped down the stairs then rushed toward him. He ran so quickly he didn’t feel the rain soaking through his t-shirt until his arms were around Blaise’s shoulders.

“I missed you.”

Blaise grimaced and mumbled, “Sorry for this. I know I am late.”

“It never matters,” replied Dean, “not as long as you come home.” He placed his hand on Blaise’s neck and ran his thumb along the line of Blaise’s jaw. “Bad day?”

“Horrid.”

Dean played with a couple of Blaise’s braids, watching as beads of water fell from the ends. The crease between Blaise’s eyebrows deepened and his frown hadn’t softened. So Dean looked up at the sky and opened his mouth. He stuck out his tongue and began collecting raindrops. Once he had enough, Dean closed his lips, looked down at Blaise, and spat the water into his face. 

Blaise, momentarily affronted, wiped off his face only for it to be pelted with more raindrops. Suddenly, the tension left his shoulders and he began to laugh. He wrapped one hand around the back of Dean’s neck and pulled him into a kiss.

Blaise’s lips were soft and wet. Dean let his hands rest at the base of Blaise’s spine and pulled him closer. Any time they moved, their clothes squelched against each other as the rain continued to fall. Thunder rumbled off in the distance so Dean pulled Blaise backward toward the stairs without stepping apart. They didn’t make it far, as Dean slid on one of the stones and Blaise grabbed the front of his shirt to keep him upright. Then they broke apart just far enough to laugh.

“Do you know something?” asked Blaise.

Grinning, Dean said, “Tell me.”

“There is nothing better than coming home to you at the end of the day.” 

“Yeah?”

Blaise nodded and pulled him down into another open-mouthed kiss. Well over twenty years together, and it still made Dean melt into a content puddle.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. ❤️


End file.
